Razor's Edge
Chapter 11
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.
Sunstreaker helped Ratchet pick Hot Rod up off the floor and deposited him on the berth in the med bay. No questions asked, the medic reflected. He wondered how fast the gossip mill would start speculation about this incident, but he pushed it from his mind when Prowl commed him.
:Just why am I supposed to put Optimus in the brig?:
:I'll be there in a minute: Ratchet answered.
"Sunstreaker, keep an eye on Hot Rod for me. If he gives you any trouble, comm First Aid," Ratchet said. "Just keep him here."
"All right," Sunstreaker said, settling in to keep an eye on the patient.
Ratchet left, finding Prowl and Ironhide standing over their still-unconscious Prime who was still laying where they'd left him.
"He needs to be in the brig," Ratchet said. "I'm not kidding. As the chief medical officer of the Autobot forces, that is a direct order, Prowl. Since when do you need a reason?"
"I do when you're telling me I have to take our leader into custody," Prowl said.
"Prowl, don't argue," Ironhide said. "I told you, Ratchet has his reasons."
"I hope it's a valid one," Prowl said.
"It is, and one that does not concern you," Ratchet said. Not yet anyway.
"Prowl. . ." Ratchet said, hoping the warning lingering in the air would be incentive to do as he was told.
"Fine," Prowl said, leaning down, grabbing one of his leader's arms. Ironhide did the same, and they dragged him down the corridor toward the brig.
By the time they had their Prime in a cell, Optimus was awake, angry, and trying to talk his way out.
"You can't do this. It's insubordination," Optimus said.
Prowl glanced at Ironhide, who met his gaze with a shrug.
"When I get out. . ."
"You'll what? Any sign of retaliation and Ratchet will declare you unfit for duty," Prowl said.
He sat back, staring at the stasis cuffs on his wrists, thinking.
"And don't even think about trying to escape," Prowl said.
Optics narrowed over the battle mask, and his energy field flared with anger.
"I don't care what you did—I have orders. Lawful orders from our CMO, who thinks you need some time to cool off," Prowl said. "From the way you're acting, I believe Ratchet is right."
"What did Ratchet tell you?" Optimus asked.
"You need to cool off," Prowl said. "That's all."
"I need out of this cell" Optimus said. "I. . ."
"You're stayin' here," Ironhide said. "You and I will talk later about what I saw."
The red mech left, leaving a confused-looking Prowl in his wake.
"Prowl, do not ask," Optimus said, offlining his optics, leaning back against the cell wall.
Prowl frowned. What in the Pit was going on?
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Hot Rod paced in his quarters. First Aid had let him out of the med bay, but only if he promised to go to his quarters. Fortunately for Sunstreaker, the yellow twin had commed the medic before Hot Rod woke up, and he'd come online with First Aid waiting patiently beside his berth. The medic gave him a data pad on carrying, and asked if he had any questions. He didn't, and the medic let him go.
And now, he was seething. "Peeved." "Angry." "Incensed." None of the human words covered how he felt. Some suns didn't burn as bright and hot as his anger. He didn't feel used. Just angry Optimus didn't mention any possible side effects of interfacing with the Matrix-bearer and annoyance at his condition. He was carrying a new life. Kup would probably die if he found out, and Springer. . .he'd never live it down. His reverie was broken by the sound of his door chime.
"Come," he said, not really caring who knew, because most of the base probably knew anyway.
He stopped pacing when he saw Ratchet. Why did it have to be Ratchet?
"How are you feeling?"
Hot Rod hmphed.
"That good?" Ratchet said, arms crossed, watching as Hot Rod resumed his pacing. "Any questions?"
"Yeah," Hot Rod said. "How long is this going to take?"
"Normal gestation for a mech is three to six months," Ratchet said. "The disparity is because of possible compatibility issues between sire and carrier, but given the condition of the new spark you carry, I'd say the gestation could be short. How long have you and Optimus been. . .involved?'
"Not long," Hot Rod snapped.
"Easy," Ratchet said. "I know this is a shock. . ."
"No kidding," Hot Rod said. "Look, what are my options?"
"Such as?" Ratchet asked. "If you're thinking of termination, that is something both you and Optimus will have to discuss. . ."
"Whoa, that's not it at all," Hot Rod said. "I was talking about my duties. I don't have to be sidelined just because. . ."
"You will be pulled from active duty temporarily," Ratchet said. "Depending on how well you handle the gestation, I wouldn't be against something like monitor duty, just so you have something to keep you occupied. Not that you won't have your hands full learning how to deal with caring for a sparkling, you and Optimus both."
"Where is Optimus?" Hot Rod asked. "Not that I want to see him right now."
"In the brig," Ratchet said.
Hot Rod's jaw dropped, but he recovered quickly.
"Separate corners are good for both of you right now," Ratchet said. "Optimus needs time to consider the consequences of his actions, and as soon as I'm done here, he and I are going to have a talk about that. You need time to adjust to the fact you are carrying, and resulting from a relationship that is in its fledgling stages."
Hot Rod snorted at that.
"What?" Ratchet said, but he continued. "And you are both going to have to find a way to work through this, and if you care enough for each other to establish a formal union, like a bond, or just come to an agreement you can both live with."
"Are we done?" Hot Rod asked, sitting down on the edge of his berth.
"For now," Ratchet said. "I'll come see you in the morning."
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Optimus Prime perked up, hearing someone approach his cell. However, when he saw it was Ratchet, he went back to looking at the floor.
"You should know better," Ratchet said. "You were reckless."
"There was nothing reckless about it," Optimus answered.
"You bear the Matrix. You should have considered the risks, and now Hot Rod is paying the price," Ratchet said.
Optimus raised an optic ridge.
"He's not the one in the brig," he said.
"No, but he is confined to quarters, and not speaking to much of anyone," Ratchet said.
"Is he unharmed?"
"He took no damage from the fight, but he is very unhappy right now," Ratchet said.
"If I could talk to him. . ."
"I think you're the last being in existence he would like to be close to right now," Ratchet said.
Optimus decided to switch tactics.
"How is the sparkling?" he asked.
"Healthy, strong and remarkably well-developed for being so new," Ratchet said. "My question is have you given any thought yet to how you are going to make this right?"
Optimus frowned. "Make what right?"
Ratchet fought the urge to smack his forehead. Primus, Optimus could be dense sometimes.
"This situation," Ratchet said. "I can't expect you would do something like this and not take responsibility for it."
"I intend on taking full responsibility for my child when it is born," Optimus said.
"That's fine and everything, but what about its carrier and the time leading up to its emergence?" Ratchet said. "This is not going to be easy on Hot Rod, considering current circumstances, and it is his first time carrying."
"I will be there for him," Optimus said. "He deserves nothing less than my support."
"Yes, considering this is all your fault," Ratchet said, watching, wanting to gauge Optimus' reaction.
"I was not the only one involved in the creation of this sparkling," Optimus snapped, optics blazing. "And I was not the one who initiated our. . .relationship."
Ratchet raised an optic ridge in interest. Huh, so Hot Rod had pounced Optimus. Interesting.
"You do care then?" Ratchet asked.
"Yes," Optimus said.
"Have you told Hot Rod this?"
"Not in so many words," Optimus said, suddenly looking at the floor.
"Optimus. . ."
"I don't care what you have to do, but make things right," Ratchet said. "Don't just ambush Hot Rod first thing when you get out of here, but give him a little space. Just a little. Do. Not. Push."
"I won't," Optimus said.
"Or smother," Ratchet said. "Hot Rod needs your support, not your protection, although I'm sure as Prime, every fiber of your being is screaming to protect what is yours, correct?"
"Yes," Optimus said.
"Optimus, in this, you're not Prime, but just Optimus," Ratchet said. "You're still Hot Rod's Prime, but. . ." He trailed off. They were going to have to figure things out on their own, and there was only going to be so much he could do as friend and medic.
"But?"
"Get some rest," Ratchet said. "You're going to need it."
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0800. Hot Rod's door chimed. He rolled off the berth, walked over, hitting the release. He frowned, seeing his visitor. Optimus Prime.
"What are you doing here?" Hot Rod asked, stepping aside as the other mech entered.
"I came to see how you are," Optimus said.
"Peachy," Hot Rod said. "I'm fine. I don't want to talk to you right now, so. . ."
"We have plenty we need to talk about," Optimus said.
"I know," Hot Rod said. "But don't you have someone else to go bother right now?"
"You think I came here to 'bother' you?" Optimus asked. ""You're carrying my. . .our sparkling. A sparkling. New life. That's enough to preclude you from combat, or any active duty if Ratchet sees fit, and I'll back him up."
"Your sparkling. That's the real issue here, isn't it?" Hot Rod asked. "I'm a warrior. What am I supposed to do?"
"If Megatron were to find out you're carrying, can you imagine what will happen? What he could do if it were revealed it was my offspring?" Optimus asked.
"Burn that bridge when we get there, as the humans say," Hot Rod said. "I know I'm going to be on light duty, if I'm lucky, then medical leave. Ratchet and I already had that talk."
And then nausea hit, just like it did the day before. He offlined his optics, trying to make the fluttering in his spark and tank go away, but it didn't. Hot Rod hit his knees, purging.
Optimus knelt down beside him, hand on his back, but Hot Rod sat up, pushing him away.
"Don't touch me," he said. "Get out."
Optimus stood, looking down at Hot Rod.
"I told you to leave," Hot Rod said.
Optimus left, shaken. He could understand Hot Rod's anger. Then the gravity of the situation set in. It was real. He was going to be a sire. And it seemed Hot Rod wanted nothing to do with him. He was Prime. It wouldn't have worked out anyway he reasoned. But he would still protect them. He could give them that. Losing the life he helped create, losing Hot Rod, the thought was enough to bring him to his knees. Optimus set a hand against the wall, trying to steady himself. He cycled his intakes, trying to get a grip. It would be fine. Ratchet was right. Hot Rod needed space and time. He needed to back off. Slow down. If he'd taken things slow to begin with, they would not be in this situation. He was reckless. He vented air in a sigh, standing up straight, turning around.
"Ratchet said I would probably find you here," Prowl said. "I'll have to tell him he was right. Just as soon as I return you to the brig."
"Speaking of the brig, where are Thundercracker and Skywarp?" Optimus asked.
"Enjoying your quarters," Prowl said. "C'mon." He grabbed Optimus by the arm, leading him back toward the brig.
"I hope you're kidding about my quarters," Optimus said.
"I am," Prowl said, lips turning up in a rare smile. "I just wanted to see what you would say. They're under guard, in empty crew quarters. Ratchet asked me to move them, and I did, considering he was insistent he talk to you in private."
Reaching the brig, Prowl shoved Optimus back into the cell he'd vacated not long before.
"Optimus, whatever is going on, you know you can always talk to me," Prowl said. "Or Jazz. It won't go any further."
"Thank you, Prowl," Optimus said.
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Ratchet locked down the med bay first thing upon entering that morning. He figured Prowl would take care of Optimus, as he'd warned the second in command. Right now, his concern was Starscream. He and the Seeker needed to have a little talk. And he knew the other mech was awake. He'd watched Starscream go back to feigning recharge when he entered the med bay.
"Just how much did you hear yesterday?" Ratchet asked.
"Enough," Starscream said, meeting the medic's gaze.
"I have your word you won't talk of what you witnessed?" Ratchet said.
"No one would believe me anyway," Starscream said. "Besides, who am I going to talk to you besides you, medic?"
"Good point," Ratchet muttered. "Get some rest. We'll talk later."
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The day dragged for Optimus Prime. He'd counted all the floor, ceiling and wall tiles, and had given up on counting again. He couldn't recharge another minute and was bored out of his mind. This time, when he heard footsteps, he didn't look forward to having a visitor. Ironhide walked up, pulled up a chair outside on the other side of the containment field, sitting down.
"You and I are gonna have that little talk I promised you yesterday," Ironhide said. "What was goin' on anyway? Why were you fightin' with Hot Rod? This ain't like you, so c'mon. You're not gettin' off easy, so talk."
"Ironhide, it's a personal matter, and. . ."
"Personal, my aft. You're Prime. Bots are gonna talk, no matter how much Ratchet threatens 'em," Ironhide said. "Must be somethin' if you were havin' it out in public with a subordinate."
Optimus figured the truth would be the best option, considering it was Ironhide, one of his oldest, most trusted friends. So he started talking.
"Hot Rod is suffering from a medical condition that is my fault," Optimus said.
"Huh?" Ironhide asked, confused. Medical condition? What medical condition. He started to think. . .optics widened.
"I'm going to be a sire," Optimus said.